2012 release. Limited numbered edition of 500. The Ensemble Kluster was founded by Conrad Schnitzler in 1969. One of the most radical and influential German progressive avant-garde bands, its approach and techniques were related to Stockhausen and the Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, and its influences and characteristics can still be found in works of many avant-garde and industrial-bands of today. Schnitzler's continuous working partners over the years have been Klaus Freudigmann and Wolfgang Seidel. Kluster also worked with various friends including Tangerine Dream, and , with whom Schnitzler recorded and released three of the Kluster actions on vinyl in 1971 -- Eruption, Klopfzeichen, and Zwei-Osterei -- before Roedelius and Moebius went on to form Cluster. Kluster performed with regular instruments (piano, electric guitar, cello, percussion, electric organ), which were recorded with a contact microphone, transformed, manipulated, distorted, chopped-up, and conveyed by loudspeakers. The result is an exciting, raw, and roughly structured sound continuum, rich in associations skirting the edges of sound magic. The "Aktions" in this box set are all previously unreleased.

The official Konrad Schnitzler discography lists Eruption, released in 1971, under the title Schwarz, as the first Schnitzler album. In actual fact, Eruption is the third and final LP by the group Kluster, following Klopfzeichen (BB 110CD/LP) and Zwei Osterei (BB 111CD/LP). The line-up printed on the labels leaves no room for doubt. Unlike the two previous albums, Eruption was not issued by the Schwann Verlag, but by the band on its own, hence the task of financing the record fell to the participants. Roedelius and Moebius, however, were either unable or unwilling to get involved in this risky business. Without further ado, Schnitzler decided to cover the cost of pressing up 200 LPs which he would bring out under his own name. This historical "error" has now been corrected: Eruption is a Kluster album. Seen alongside Klopfzeichen and Zwei Osterei, Eruption is a different beast altogether. The total absence of lyrics, to begin with; the music is music, nothing more. The listener revels in a pure symphony of sound, its dramatic artistry holding his attention until the very end. And that is the second major difference to the first two LPs. Whereas their furious intensity sounded almost brutally improvised, Eruption appears clearly structured throughout, musical freedoms notwithstanding. Kluster take their time in developing spontaneous ideas here, they get loud and then, for lengthier periods, go quiet, suggesting at times a sense of absolute emptiness, followed by outbreaks of dark anger. The possibilities opened up by live electronics were thrillingly exploited to the limit. And yet there is undeniably a method in the music. In the course of their many live concerts, Kluster had learned to use instruments and electronics constructively, reaching the zenith of their musical powers of expression on Eruption. Kluster disbanded after Eruption. The album is a revealing document of a band striving to stretch the musical spectrum during the early 1970s, and indeed, how capable they were of doing so. Moebius and Roedelius went on working together as Cluster, and Conrad Schnitzler (now with a C) began developing his own vision of electronic music, a project he continued assiduously until his death (2011). Still, all three had their roots in Kluster -- incredibly powerful roots. And Kluster have never ceased to be hugely fertile ground. May their creative inspiration never run dry.

LP version. Comes on 180 gram vinyl and includes download card for the album. The official Konrad Schnitzler discography lists Eruption, released in 1971, under the title Schwarz, as the first Schnitzler album. In actual fact, Eruption is the third and final LP by the group Kluster, following Klopfzeichen (BB 110CD/LP) and Zwei Osterei (BB 111CD/LP). The line-up printed on the labels leaves no room for doubt. Unlike the two previous albums, Eruption was not issued by the Schwann Verlag, but by the band on its own, hence the task of financing the record fell to the participants. Roedelius and Moebius, however, were either unable or unwilling to get involved in this risky business. Without further ado, Schnitzler decided to cover the cost of pressing up 200 LPs which he would bring out under his own name. This historical "error" has now been corrected: Eruption is a Kluster album. Seen alongside Klopfzeichen and Zwei Osterei, Eruption is a different beast altogether. The total absence of lyrics, to begin with; the music is music, nothing more. The listener revels in a pure symphony of sound, its dramatic artistry holding his attention until the very end. And that is the second major difference to the first two LPs. Whereas their furious intensity sounded almost brutally improvised, Eruption appears clearly structured throughout, musical freedoms notwithstanding. Kluster take their time in developing spontaneous ideas here, they get loud and then, for lengthier periods, go quiet, suggesting at times a sense of absolute emptiness, followed by outbreaks of dark anger. The possibilities opened up by live electronics were thrillingly exploited to the limit. And yet there is undeniably a method in the music. In the course of their many live concerts, Kluster had learned to use instruments and electronics constructively, reaching the zenith of their musical powers of expression on Eruption. Kluster disbanded after Eruption. The album is a revealing document of a band striving to stretch the musical spectrum during the early 1970s, and indeed, how capable they were of doing so. Moebius and Roedelius went on working together as Cluster, and Conrad Schnitzler (now with a C) began developing his own vision of electronic music, a project he continued assiduously until his death (2011). Still, all three had their roots in Kluster -- incredibly powerful roots. And Kluster have never ceased to be hugely fertile ground. May their creative inspiration never run dry.

Imagine finding a message in a bottle, forty years after it was dispatched. That is what it feels like when you listen to Kluster's Klopfzeichen for the first time, mysterious, hard to decipher, a relic of a time long since passed. The handwriting is archaic, barely legible, the complex contents only falling into place when examined through the light of historical context. Klopfzeichen is an incredibly important release for the time in which it appeared (1971), an extraordinarily significant document. More than anything, the three messengers Konrad Schnitzler, Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius formulated a radical claim with Klopfzeichen: anarchic, unlimited freedom of art and music. Kluster's music may have aged, but their message has not. That the recording session happened at all is, curiously enough, due to a church musician, a man one would then have described as extremely progressive. Oskar Gottlieb Blarr not only made it possible for these musical enfants terribles to work in Düsseldorf's Rhenus Studio, he also orchestrated the release of Klopfzeichen shortly afterwards through the Schwann Verlag, a publisher closely associated with the church, on their own record label, AMS Studio (subtitled "Werkraum für neue Kirchenmusik"/trans. "workspace for new church music"). This "ecclesiastical" affinity is probably the reason for the strongly-committed political and religious texts spoken over the music on the A-side. Kluster lyrics they are not, and they sound a little strange today. True to their understanding of artistic freedom (Joseph Beuys was undoubtedly an influence), Kluster improvised with all sources of sound they could lay their hands on: guitar, bass, cello, flute, drums and various other pieces of equipment not usually intended for musical use. None of them could profess to be an expert on any of the instruments. They were brilliant dilettantes, a decade before the concept was invented. Electronics? No sign of them. The budget did not stretch to synthesizers or anything of that ilk. That said, a certain Conny Plank was on board as sound engineer for the early recordings. He added an apocalyptic character to Kluster's menacing and chaotic music. Klopfzeichen was the most radical album of the early German pop music avant-garde by a country mile. Its sounds and noises had nothing in common with the sequencer-generated electronic music emerging from Berlin or Düsseldorf. Kluster music was Angstmusik, the music of fear. Liner notes by Asmus Tietchens.

180 gram vinyl version. Imagine finding a message in a bottle, forty years after it was dispatched. That is what it feels like when you listen to Kluster's Klopfzeichen for the first time, mysterious, hard to decipher, a relic of a time long since passed. The handwriting is archaic, barely legible, the complex contents only falling into place when examined through the light of historical context. Klopfzeichen is an incredibly important release for the time in which it appeared (1971), an extraordinarily significant document. More than anything, the three messengers Konrad Schnitzler, Hans-Joachim Roedelius and Dieter Moebius formulated a radical claim with Klopfzeichen: anarchic, unlimited freedom of art and music. Kluster's music may have aged, but their message has not. That the recording session happened at all is, curiously enough, due to a church musician, a man one would then have described as extremely progressive. Oskar Gottlieb Blarr not only made it possible for these musical enfants terribles to work in Düsseldorf's Rhenus Studio, he also orchestrated the release of Klopfzeichen shortly afterwards through the Schwann Verlag, a publisher closely associated with the church, on their own record label, AMS Studio (subtitled "Werkraum für neue Kirchenmusik"/trans. "workspace for new church music"). This "ecclesiastical" affinity is probably the reason for the strongly-committed political and religious texts spoken over the music on the A-side. Kluster lyrics they are not, and they sound a little strange today. True to their understanding of artistic freedom (Joseph Beuys was undoubtedly an influence), Kluster improvised with all sources of sound they could lay their hands on: guitar, bass, cello, flute, drums and various other pieces of equipment not usually intended for musical use. None of them could profess to be an expert on any of the instruments. They were brilliant dilettantes, a decade before the concept was invented. Electronics? No sign of them. The budget did not stretch to synthesizers or anything of that ilk. That said, a certain Conny Plank was on board as sound engineer for the early recordings. He added an apocalyptic character to Kluster's menacing and chaotic music. Klopfzeichen was the most radical album of the early German pop music avant-garde by a country mile. Its sounds and noises had nothing in common with the sequencer-generated electronic music emerging from Berlin or Düsseldorf. Kluster music was Angstmusik, the music of fear. Liner notes by Asmus Tietchens.

Zwei Osterei is the second half of a recording session which took place on a single day in November 1970. Klopfzeichen is the first part. Yet the uncompromising Zwei Osterei surpasses the earlier Klopfzeichen album by some distance in terms of its harsh noisiness and near brutal sonic attacks. Everything that was left of the revolutionary verve of the late 1960s seems to have been distilled into this music with a burning glass: aesthetic destruction to liberate the mind and ears for utopian designs; the definitive coalescence of art and pop into something completely new; unbridled musical freedom, coupled with a love of noise. Zwei Osterei is all of this. How unsettling Kluster's music must have been for the professional avant-garde of the period (music journalists, critics etc.). Kluster turned pretty much everything associated with so-called progressive pop music on its head. No song structure, no rhythm, little more than muffled pulsation. No heroic poses, no transfigured gestures on stage. This attitude, or rather anti-attitude is particularly in evidence on track two of Zwei Osterei. Still no electronic instruments, just guitar, drums and non-musical sonic sources as Kluster unleash a sound spectacle which anticipates the industrial artists who emerged some years later. Conny Plank played a pivotal role as sound engineer with the relatively limited studio equipment available to him. His meticulous reading of the band's intentions led to the creation of pure, electroacoustic music -- loud, violent, real-time improvisation. Shrill feedback, tape echo loops and layers of sonic cascades dominate this section of the album. This was no longer psychedelic, nor "progressive." It was more like sonic warfare, waged against all musical categories and conventions. Many a listener posed the rather helpless question "What is that supposed to be??... art? Music? A happening?" According to statements made by the band, none of the above. It was simply Kluster. A lofty claim which Zwei Osterei fulfills one hundred percent. Translated, the statement is nothing more nor less than a challenge to ignore the accumulated theory of art and music, with all the risks and side effects this entails. Back in 1970, Kluster could not have known that they were setting in motion a process which would endure until the present day. But they no doubt hoped as much.

2015 repress; vinyl version. Zwei Osterei is the second half of a recording session which took place on a single day in November 1970. Klopfzeichen is the first part. Yet the uncompromising Zwei Osterei surpasses the earlier Klopfzeichen album by some distance in terms of its harsh noisiness and near brutal sonic attacks. Everything that was left of the revolutionary verve of the late 1960s seems to have been distilled into this music with a burning glass: aesthetic destruction to liberate the mind and ears for utopian designs; the definitive coalescence of art and pop into something completely new; unbridled musical freedom, coupled with a love of noise. Zwei Osterei is all of this. How unsettling Kluster's music must have been for the professional avant-garde of the period (music journalists, critics etc.). Kluster turned pretty much everything associated with so-called progressive pop music on its head. No song structure, no rhythm, little more than muffled pulsation. No heroic poses, no transfigured gestures on stage. This attitude, or rather anti-attitude is particularly in evidence on track two of Zwei Osterei. Still no electronic instruments, just guitar, drums and non-musical sonic sources as Kluster unleash a sound spectacle which anticipates the industrial artists who emerged some years later. Conny Plank played a pivotal role as sound engineer with the relatively limited studio equipment available to him. His meticulous reading of the band's intentions led to the creation of pure, electroacoustic music -- loud, violent, real-time improvisation. Shrill feedback, tape echo loops and layers of sonic cascades dominate this section of the album. This was no longer psychedelic, nor "progressive." It was more like sonic warfare, waged against all musical categories and conventions. Many a listener posed the rather helpless question "What is that supposed to be??... art? Music? A happening?" According to statements made by the band, none of the above. It was simply Kluster. A lofty claim which Zwei Osterei fulfills one hundred percent. Translated, the statement is nothing more nor less than a challenge to ignore the accumulated theory of art and music, with all the risks and side effects this entails. Back in 1970, Kluster could not have known that they were setting in motion a process which would endure until the present day. But they no doubt hoped as much.

"Founded in 1969, German ambient space-rock pioneers Kluster were originally a trio featuring Conrad Schnitzler, Hans-Joachim Roedelius, and Dieter Moebius. During their brief lifespan (before Schnitzler left in 1971 and the duo renamed themselves Cluster) they recorded three LPs, all of which are available here. The first two records, Klopfzeichen and Zwei-Osterei, recorded in 1969 and 1970 respectively, were sponsored and released by a church-run record label (Schwann) and as a result of contractual obligation, featured religious-themed text on the first side of each. The trio's third album Eruption was a live recording of the band's last concert together in 1971. All three are amazing examples of pioneering ambient music featuring guitar, percussion, keys, and cello heavily processed with echo, filters, and tape machines to create an effect unlike anything else that was being made at the time. Absolutely essential and seminal progressive music. Contains liner notes."

Previously unreleased recordings from 1971. 2nd pressing, standard jewel case packaging. "Admira is sourced from original master recordings discovered by Kluster member and Tangerine Dream engineer Klaus Freudigmann. Along with Vulcano, also being released at the same time on Important, Admira is presented here for the first time in this deluxe package. These intense sessions were made with Schnitzler at the helm, as always, after the departure of Mobius and Roedelius from the group. Conrad Schnitzler founded Kluster in 1969 along with Roedelius, Mobius and often Klaus Freudigmann who had multiple roles within the group as a player, engineer and instrument inventor. Eventually Roedelius and Mobius left Kluster and continued on as Cluster while Schnitzler and Freudigmann continued as Kluster often exploring the communal aspects of music by bringing new people into the group."

Previously unreleased live recordings from 1971, recorded in Wuppertal, Germany. 2nd pressing, standard jewel case packaging. "Vulcano is sourced from original master recordings discovered by Kluster member and Tangerine Dream engineer Klaus Freudigmann. Along with Admira, also being released at the same time on Important, Vulcano is presented here for the first time in this deluxe package. These intense sessions were made with Schnitzler at the helm, as always, after the departure of Mobius and Roedelius from the group."

2nd Kluster album, from 1970, reissued. As with Klopfzeichen, this was first issued by the religious-affiliated Schwann label in Germany in a tiny edition and has been basically impossible to get from the date of its release. This features more of their startling brand of dark, grinding, organically euphoric electronic music. An incredible event to have this stuff become freely available at last. This CD adds another 15 minute bonus track of Cluster w/ Joschi Farnbauer. Limited stock.